


The Vampire's Kiss

by greygerbil



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 06:23:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16470407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/pseuds/greygerbil
Summary: Sixteen year old Victor and Georgi are at a boring Halloween party that they abandon in favour of exploring the graveyard that is close-by. While Georgi fears meeting a ghost, he soon finds something even more shocking is awaiting him there.





	The Vampire's Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> For Spookyweek 2018, Day 4: Halloween/Costume Party

“Are you alright, firebird?”

Georgi, sitting on the small wall surrounding the Kovalev’s estate’s gardens, glanced up from his knees at Victor. His long silver hair and black cape billowed dramatically behind him in the wind. In the dim light of the brass lantern bolted to the outside of this 19th century brick building, he looked every inch the regal vampire his expertly fitted fangs made him out to be, with an old-fashioned suit and ruffled shirt to match.

“I’m fine,” Georgi said, making himself sit upright. His stomach was still twisting in knots. He looked down at his hands, feather-studded at the wrists, resting on top of the gold-glittering tunic in blended orange and yellow. The costume hadn’t gotten stained, it looked like, but he imagined the feathers in his long hair had been tousled when he’d had to twist the strands awkwardly behind his head while he was vomiting. He’d considered cutting his hair off a lot lately, since people always compared his look to Victor’s, and tonight seemed to be a great argument in favour of that. Half-heartedly, he reached up to fix the feathers, but decided it was a lost cause without a mirror.

“Your make-up is smeared. Did you cry?”

Georgi blinked. He hadn’t considered the black eyeliner anymore. There might have been some tears in his eyes as he was sick.

“Part of the costume,” he muttered, and when Victor, who’d seen him before he’d messed up his look, seemed doubtful, he finally shrugged. “Look, I threw up.”

“Didn’t you just have that one glass of vodka?”

Victor laughed at him and Georgi wanted to kick him. Maybe Victor with his supernatural metabolism could drink until he blacked out when it suited him, but Georgi had to watch his calorie intake and there was rarely room for alcohol. They were just sixteen, so he was hoping his resistance would get naturally better somehow, eventually, even if he didn’t get any practice drinking. Some of the older gentlemen from the Figure Skating Federation would always put a glass in your hand with the intention of making you feel adult, though, and tonight Georgi hadn’t been smart enough to leave it on a windowsill somewhere.

“Wait, did you throw up out here in Mr. Kovalev’s rose bushes?” Victor asked, still grinning.

“The way to the bathroom was too long – it’s better than his carpet, isn’t it?” Georgi muttered.

Victor snickered.

“If he knew about that, he’d fall unconscious.”

“What are you doing out here?” Georgi asked, hoping to turn the conversation away from himself and from throwing up because that just made him feel queasy again.

Victor blew a strand of hair out of his face.

“It’s just… stuffy in there. They should open a window.” He smiled, showing his fangs. “And a few too many reporters and RusFed guys for a party, don’t you think?”

Georgi nodded his head. He wondered if Victor really cared about the quality of the air at all. “I guess it’s more of a function.”

But they’d known that, which was why their Halloween costumes had been designed by the people who usually did their skating outfits. Yakov had known they would be photographed a lot tonight. Most people had crowded around Victor, of course, congratulating him for his brilliant start in Skate America this season which cashed in on the promises all his Junior wins had made, and Georgi had both pitied him for having to talk to all the suits and felt the now familiar sting of jealousy that despite a small heap of silver and bronze medals from Juniors, he seemed to be invisible. He didn’t really want to back in. He was still feeling sick, too.

“I think I’m going to take a walk,” Georgi said, getting to his feet, testing how steady they were for a moment.

“Where to?”

“Just around,” Georgi said, shrugging.

“Oh, we should go to the graveyard!” Victor exclaimed.

Georgi glance down the garden path. The villa laid directly next to a desecrated old graveyard that the owner of the house had been telling lukewarm ghost stories about all evening. While Georgi liked the forlorn charm of desolate places like that by daytime, he really didn’t want to go to one on All Hallows’ Eve in the middle of the night.

“I don’t know...”

“Why not? It’ll be fun,” Victor said.

“People will wonder where you are,” Georgi pointed out.

“I’ve been talking to everyone for hours now! They don’t need me all evening.”

The smile on Victor’s lips seemed strained. Georgi found his suspicion that Victor was really just fleeing growing stronger. It made his own anger with him wane a little.

“Okay,” he said. “Sure.”

Georgi felt a bit unsteady on his feet still, but he pushed on towards the wrought-iron gate. It squealed like a trapped animal when he opened it and the hair on the back of his neck stood. Victor breathed out quietly.

“Wow, so spooky!” he said with a little laugh, clapping his hands. “This is a much better thing to do on Halloween than a boring party. Maybe we’ll see someone rising from the dead.”

“Who knows,” Georgi said, unhappily glancing over his shoulder towards the house, which looked warm and inviting now. “My grandfather always said there was a ghost in the apartment he lived in.”

The graveyard stretched out in the dark before them, lit only at the edges by the lanterns on the adjacent streets, which peeked over the crumbling stone walls. The graves were overgrown and the stones and statues atop of them withered, some beaten completely faceless by wind and weather.

“Do you believe it?”

If he’d been less drunk, Georgi would have denied it, but as it was he only glanced at a stone cross standing askew right next to him, tangled in ivy, and shrugged his shoulders.

“It was a very old house. Who knows what could have happened in there over the centuries? And I’m sixteen, it’s not like I know everything about the world yet,” he said, pressing a hand to his chest, “so who am I to say ghosts definitely don’t exist?”

Victor put his index finger to his lower lip as he always did when he made a show out of considering something.

“If you put it like that, it makes sense. Well, a little bit.” He snorted. “What kind of ghost did your grandpa see?”

Their steps crunched on the wet pebbles that covered the path between the headstones. Georgi breathed in the clean, wet air. He felt a little better moving and talking, maybe because he didn’t have time to focus on feeling sick, but he was still on edge.

“A little girl. He said that he saw her standing at the back of the hallway sometimes when it was dark.”

Georgi had always ran with his eyes closed down the hallway after that when it was night-time.

“Your grandfather was probably just joking,” Victor said.

His mother had said the same thing back then, but his grandfather had sounded serious to Georgi.

“That part of the apartment was always cold, though, even in summer.”

Victor chuckled. “The insulation is not great in all these old apartment buildings, that doesn’t mean they’re all haunted.”

“If you don’t believe in ghosts at all, why are you even walking around in a graveyard?” Georgi muttered, tired of being teased. “We could have gone to the supermarket across the street or something if you didn’t want to go back to the party.”

Victor was quiet for a moment. “I actually wanted to talk to you alone,” he said.

Georgi glanced at him, but they were walking down the middle of the old graveyard and the lights of the street lamps barely reached here so that he couldn’t see Victor’s face very well.

“Why?” he asked, curiosity overcoming his annoyance.

Before Victor could answer, there was a loud clack and rustle behind them. They both jumped and turned. Something small shot down the pathway. In the light of a lamp, Georgi saw that it was some sort of fuzzy dog. He exhaled loudly, his heartbeat slowing.

Next to him, Victor let out a breathy laugh. “A dog! I wonder if he’s okay?”

“He could have run away from somewhere,” Georgi guessed, looking around. “But I can’t see him now.”

They walked back down the path to where the dog had slipped between a stone bench and a withered gravestone. Though a street light shone onto the spot, there was no sign of the dog in the tangle of bushes.

“He’ll probably be fine,” Georgi said after a moment. “Maybe he lives here.”

They both peered into the underbrush a little longer, but everything was quiet once more. Georgi looked over at Victor.

“What did you want to say just now?”

“Oh…” Victor craned his neck again, surveying the graveyard for the dog, then snapped back to look at Georgi with his brightest smile. “It’s not that important, I guess! Hey, sit down for a moment, your hair is a mess. You look like a plucked chicken.” He chuckled. “I’ll fix it.”

Georgi gave him a puzzled look, but decided to do what Victor wanted. It was never much use arguing with him, anyway.

Victor sat down next to him and Georgi turned his head so Victor could reach his hair better. He could feel him undoing the slim braid he wore around his head, then redoing it, folding the strands into each other before pulling them strictly together and binding them again. After that, he began picking golden feathers out of Georgi’s hair and pushing them back in so they sat firmly again. Georgi could feel the pricks of their stems against his scalp. Victor motioned for Georgi to turn around and leaned in close to brush and nudge at the feathers on the very top of his head.

“Pretty,” he said, finally, regarding his own creation. “I think I can let you go back like this.”

“Thanks,” Georgi said.

Victor didn’t move away from where he sat on the bench in front of him. Georgi was just about to ask him if they should return to the party when Victor leaned forward and kissed him. It was kind of awkward because Georgi’s mouth was half-opened and also he could feel Victor’s fake fangs. Maybe it was the alcohol that left the _Victor is kissing me_ somewhere on a lower rung down the ladder of things to be concerned about in that moment, but once his brain had happened onto it, a jolt went through his body, making him move backwards.

Victor stared at him, hurt, and Georgi couldn’t think of anything to say but: “I just threw up.”

“Well… I still wanted to kiss you.”

Georgi gave a nervous smile. That was kind of romantic, in a way. _What the fuck is happening?_

They stared at each other in silence for a moment before Victor sighed and then laughed.

“I know, you don’t have to tell me. You’re not even into men. I guess I shouldn’t have… it was worth a try.”

Even drunk, Georgi knew immediately that the smile and casual shrug Victor gave him now were a wall erected before the disappointment he’d seen in his eyes when Georgi flinched away from him.

Georgi rubbed his forehead with his knuckles, trying desperately to pull together some sort of reaction.

“Why did you kiss me?” he asked, finally.

Victor pulled the corners of his mouth down.

“Isn’t that obvious?”

Slowly, Georgi shook his head. Victor stared at him.

“Why would I kiss someone? Why would anyone? That’s not hard to figure out.”

And yet, he wouldn’t say, although Georgi had to admit that made it quite easy to guess. If it was hard to say, then it meant something to Victor. If it meant something to him, it wasn’t just a joke or Victor being horny or one of his hundred goddamn surprises. Well, that and kissing a person who had just thrown up while sitting in an old graveyard was hardly a great way to start casually making out.

“Okay,” Georgi said, pressing his palms into his eyes, wishing he could will his head clearer. Okay, Victor liked him. Jesus Christ.

“It’s fine, we don’t have to talk about it anymore. We should go back.”

“No, I just... didn’t...”

Georgi had been in many relationships in idle fantasies staying only in his head, with the receptionist at the gym to half of his classmates to random retail workers, but Victor had never been one of the people involved. Something about the way he treated others, always keeping them at a slight distance, made it hard to imagine him with anyone. He was impossible to gauge, obviously way more so than Georgi had even thought.

“I do like men,” he said, for lack of something more substantial to say. “I mean, I think. I’ve never kissed one. Hadn’t.”

Victor looked at him.

“Do you want to try again?” He paused, flirtiness dissipating from his expression. “I guess you probably should wash your mouth first,” he added, regretfully.

“Probably.” Georgi scrambled, tried to think what he would do if a girl had propositioned him so boldly, which had never happened, but it made no sense because his relationship to Victor was different from that to any girls – from anyone.

But he liked Victor, and he was very beautiful, as the whole world agreed, and maybe despite knowing him since they’d both been kids, Georgi had allowed himself to be cowed by him on the ice and that was why it seemed so strange. Victor was just his rink mate, though, in the end. Just a guy.

“We should... go on a date, maybe,” he said because that was how that was supposed to go, right? “To the cinema?”

Victor looked surprised. “If you want to.”

“Yes,” Georgi said, on slightly surer footing now. “I want to.”

Victor beamed.

“Let’s go on a date!” He agreed. “But I’ll choose where to. I’ll find something cool. It’ll be a surprise.”

Georgi wanted to make a joke about Victor’s surprises, but found himself smiling instead. No one had ever taken him on a surprise date before. He was usually the one thinking of fun ideas for dates.

“We should go back inside,” Georgi said. “I’m cold.”

“And you need to wash your mouth.”

“Yes,” Georgi said, grinning lopsidedly.

They walked back down the graveyard path. Victor was holding – not precisely his hand, but his wrist. His fingers were slender and cold. Georgi liked the feeling.

“I wonder what happened to that dog,” Georgi said, to talk over his heart beating suddenly too fast.

“Maybe the scary ghosts got him. We better run!”

“Fuck you.”

Victor laughed and squeezed his wrist. Georgi pulled the wrought-iron gate shut behind them.

As they were looking at each other, neither of them saw the dog go through the iron bars, his incorporeal body sliding through easily.


End file.
